


The Dragon of Iron Castle

by flawedamythyst



Series: Winglets AUs [10]
Category: Cabin Pressure, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Bucky/Clint is very side pairing, M/M, Mention of forced marriage, Threat of torture, not even a little bit, not historically accurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 20:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13302378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: Lord Stark's lands are the largest in the country, which might be why Lord Stane, his closest bannerman, decides to double-cross him and try and take them for himself. He doesn't count on Lord Stark's husband being not quite as much as of a wimp as he comes across, though.Thanks to Jupiter_Ash for betaing and coming up with the title.





	The Dragon of Iron Castle

The metal gauntlet of Lord Stane’s knight was heavy on Martin’s shoulder, pressing his knees into the cobbles of the inner courtyard of the keep, but the discomfort was secondary to the sheer terror clutching at his heart.

Tony had been stripped of his armour and thrown to the ground a couple of feet away, next to the large well that stood in the centre of the courtyard. It didn’t look like he’d been hurt beyond a few bruises, but Martin was all too aware just how many armed soldiers there were surrounding them, and that none of them were on their side.

“Doing okay, Spitfire?” Tony called over as he righted himself.

“Not really,” said Martin. It came out with a bit of a squeak that made the soldier behind him snigger.

Tony gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

There was mocking laughter and the clang of armour against stone as Lord Stane strode over. “You’re hardly in a position to prevent it, Tony,” he said. “I’m in charge now. If I want to slit the throat of your pathetic, weaselly husband, how exactly do you intend to stop me?”

Tony sent him a darkly furious look. “You’re a traitor,” he spat. “You swore yourself to my service.”

“I swore myself to your father’s service,” corrected Stane. He pulled off his helmet and handed it to one of his men. “He was a much easier man to control, so I never needed to go to these sorts of measures.” He waved an arm around, taking in the soldiers who’d turned out to be loyal to him rather than Tony, the bodies of those who had been loyal lying sprawled on blood-stained stones, as well as the Stark colours being lowered to half-mast above the keep.

“Not that I’m unhappy about it,” he added. “I think I’m going to enjoy being Lord of Iron Castle.”

Tony spat on the cobbles. “There’s no way you’ll get away with this. You’re not Lord of anything.”

“Not yet,” agreed Stane. “But I will be. Oh, Tony, Tony, you’re so sentimental; do you really not see how this works? Your castle has been attacked by outlaws. They overcame your defences, which were in a weakened state due to your neglectful ways, the ones I’ve told everyone I’ve been trying to remedy for months now. They made it right into the keep, slaughtering half your men before I could rally a counter-attack and sweep them from our castle. Your body was discovered hacked to pieces in the courtyard once they were gone.”

Martin couldn’t keep in a whimper at the mental image. Oh god, Tony was going to be killed. He was going to be murdered by one of his own bannermen, and Martin was probably going to have to watch.

If he wasn’t killed first.

“That still won’t make you Lord Stark,” said Tony. “Just a murderer and an oathbreaker.”

Stane glanced at Martin and sneered. “No, it’ll make this creature Lord Stark. This pathetic coward, whimpering on the ground. No one will be surprised when he immediately marries the strongest person he can find to protect him, and who better than the man who personally led the defense of the castle, avenging the death of his husband? His first husband, that is.”

“No,” said Martin, looking over at Tony. “I wouldn’t- Tony. I love you.”

“I know,” said Tony. “I love you too, Spitfire, he’s not going to get away with this.”

Stane laughed. “Of course I am,” he said. “I already have. There’s no one here to stop me.”

Because he’d killed everyone who was loyal to Tony. Martin could feel tears welling up in his eyes as the hopelessness of their situation weighed down on him.

Stane made a disgusted noise. “I can’t say I’m looking forward to being married to this snivelling worm,” he said. “How do you stand it, Tony? Still, I’ll only have to put up with it for a few months, make sure everyone knows the marriage has been consummated so that no one can challenge my claim once he dies of some mysterious illness.”

“Oh god,” said Martin again, nausea rising up in his stomach. He couldn’t take his eyes off Tony, as if just staring at him would be enough to keep him alive and able to protect Martin.

“You utter fucking bastard,” said Tony, in a low voice to Stane.

Stane just laughed and drew his sword. “Do you want to die on your feet, Tony? I’ll allow you that much dignity.”

The soldiers on either side of Tony stepped back and he rose to his feet. Unarmed and wearing only the soft clothes he wore under his armour, he looked horribly vulnerable. Martin thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest with terror.

Tony looked at him rather than Stane. “Remember I love you,” he said, and Martin managed a jerky nod. “I’m so sorry,” added Tony. “Don’t give up, Martin.”

“Sentimental,” sneered Stane again, advancing on Tony and raising his sword.

“I’d rather be sentimental than an oathbreaking thug,” said Tony. He backed up a step, until his legs were pressed against the low wall surrounding the well. He looked back over at Martin, eyes boring into him with fervour for a moment, then he suddenly jumped backwards, over the wall and down into the well.

“No!” Martin shouted, starting upwards and being pushed back down by the soldier behind him. “Tony!”

Stane ran over to the well with clanking footsteps, gazing down into it. “Fucking Starks,” he spat. He glanced at one of his men. “There’s no way he survived that, right?”

The man shrugged. “If he did, he won’t for long. This well goes straight down for nearly a hundred feet, there’s no way out of it.”

“So all he’s done is spoil the water with his corpse,” said Stane, shaking his head. “Selfish.”

Martin barely heard any of the conversation. Tears were streaming down his face and he couldn’t keep in the noisy sobs as he thought about Tony’s body lying at the bottom of the well. They’d barely been married for six months. Martin had wanted so much longer; a lifetime with him.

“Shut him up,” said Stane, turning away from the well.

The soldier next to Martin grabbed his chin and slapped him. Martin gasped at the sudden shock of pain, then collapsed down onto the ground when he was let go. He stifled the next sob, but despair and grief were racing through him and he couldn’t control the one after that.

“Jesus, just take him away,” said Stane, waving a hand. “Lock him in his room for now, and post a guard.”

Martin was dragged to his feet and marched back inside, up through the keep to the top level of the highest tower where the room Tony had had specially decorated for him when they were married was. They threw him inside, took a moment to shut and lock the connecting door to Tony’s room, then left him there alone.

Martin didn’t even make it to the bed. He just lay where he fell and let the sobs roll through him, tears soaking into the carpet.

****

Hours passed. Martin managed to get up off the floor and onto the bed once the first flood of tears had abated, but the pillow he buried his face in smelt like Tony and the realisation that he was never going to curl up around Martin at night again was enough to send Martin off into another fit of sobs.

He was still crying when the door opened and Stane stepped through. Martin sat up, putting everything he had into glaring at him.

“God, you’re pathetic,” said Stane. “Why the hell did Tony go for you?” He shook his head. “And now I’m stuck with you.”

Martin clutched his arms around himself. “I’d rather die than marry you,” he spat out.

Stane just laughed at him. “That’s not one of your choices, I’m afraid,” he said. “I need you alive, but I don’t need you in one piece. If you attempt to defy me, I’ll just hurt you until you give in.”

That probably wouldn’t take very much. Martin knew his strengths and resisting torture was definitely not one of them.

Oh god, what was he going to do? How could he just let Stane get away with his plan without fighting back?

“We’ll start small, don’t worry,” said Stane. “I’m gathering the inhabitants of the castle in the Great Hall. You’re going to stand on the dais as the new Lord Stark and let me do all the talking, okay?”

“No,” said Martin, but he could hear how weak he sounded.

Stane just laughed. “You’ll do it,” he said. “And if you don’t, it won’t just be you that’s hurt. There are more than enough stable boys for me to kill a few to keep you in line.”

Oh god. Martin felt tears welling up in his eyes again. What was he meant to do? What would Tony, or someone braver, do in his position?

He couldn’t even begin to guess.

There was a knock on the door and one of Stane’s men came in. “We can’t find Captain Rhodes,” he said. “His body wasn’t with the others.”

Stanes’s face went black. “Idiot! I told you to make sure he was killed, we can’t afford to have the captain of Stark’s personal guard still running around!”

“I’m sorry, my lord,” said the man, bowing.

Stane just sneered at him, then turned back to Martin. “I’ll get someone to bring you hot water. Wash your face, change your clothes, make yourself presentable. For the lord of the richest estate in the land, you’re a mess.”

He left with his soldier, and Martin glanced down at himself. He had blood on his boots from the massacre of the guards who had tried to protect him from Stane’s men, and dirt all over his clothes from the courtyard stones. At some point, probably when he’d been dragged through the keep to the courtyard, he’d torn his tunic.

Tony had had this tunic made for Martin’s birthday. It was embroidered with a dragon soaring over the tower of the keep. Martin pressed his hand over the stitching, remembering the first time Tony had taken him up to the highest battlements, barely an hour after they’d met.

Martin had been a nobody when Tony met him, wandering along the outer walls of the castle and hoping to get a chance to climb up to the tower over the gatehouse. He still didn’t understand why Tony had singled him out to talk to back then, let alone why he’d taken Martin up into the keep when he’d told him how much he loved towers and spires, and anywhere high enough that the wind whipped around you and made you feel as if you were flying.

Tony always said Martin should have been a dragon so that he could soar through the skies without needing a tower. That was why he called him Spitfire.

He was never going to call Martin that again. Tears flooded Martin’s eyes again and he took a deep breath, pushing the grief back down. He couldn’t afford to give into the emotion just yet, not if he was going to work out what to do about Stane.

Oh god, what the hell was he going to do about Stane?

He couldn’t keep his eyes from going to the shut door that led to Tony’s bedroom. He’d moved his own bedroom up here when Martin had moved into the castle, breaking a tradition stretching back generations, that Lord Stark and his spouse shared a grand suite above the Great Hall.

“C’mon, that’s not nearly high enough for my Spitfire,” he’d said. “A dragon needs to soar higher than everyone else.”

He’d had both rooms completely refitted for them, including putting the adjoining door in. It hadn’t been shut even once that Martin could remember, until Stane’s men had locked it earlier. It felt like a huge signpost shouting out that he’d never again have access to Tony, that they were irrevocably separated.

God, how was he meant to live with this pain?

There was a knock on the door and a servant came in with a jug of water. It was no one Martin recognised and he wondered what had happened to Tony’s personal servants. Jarvis and the others had known Tony since he was a boy, and were fiercely loyal.

Martin really hoped they hadn’t been killed as well. He wasn’t sure he could cope with more death today.

****

When Stane’s men came for him, Martin had washed his face and changed his boots and hose, but he couldn’t bring himself to change his tunic.

“Come on,” said one of the men gesturing at the door.

Martin stood up, then took a deep breath. He’d realised that he couldn’t do anything other than go along with Stane’s plans for now, but that didn’t meant that this was going to be easy.

The walk down to the Great Hall felt like a march to the gallows. Stane was waiting for Martin outside the doors, and he made a face when he saw him.

“I suppose that’s the best we can hope for,” he said. “Now, remember, just keep silent and follow my lead, or I’ll beat you like the insolent commoner you are.” He held out a chain to Martin. “Put this on.”

It was the red and gold crest of the Stark family, the badge of their house that had been handed down through the generations for centuries. Martin had seen Tony wear it on every single formal occasion since they’d met, including their wedding.

“That’s Tony’s,” he said, barely able to manage more than whisper.

Stane rolled his eyes. “How are you this slow? It _was_ Tony’s, just like it was his father’s, and his grandfather’s, and every Stark’s before that. They’re all dead now, so now it’s yours. And once you’re dead, it’ll be mine.” He ran the chain from one hand to the other in an almost loving gesture, then thrust it at Martin. “Put it on so we can get this over with.”

Martin took the crest with trembling hands and put it over his head, pulling at it to try and get it to sit straight.

“Follow me,” said Stane, and opened the doors to the hall. The guards rested their hands on the hilts of their swords and glowered at Martin until he followed, feeling strangely numb as he passed by the gathered crowd.

There had just been too much in the last few hours for him to process it all and it felt as if his brain had shut down under the onslaught. He trailed behind Stane to the dais, barely aware of the stares that were following him, or the shocked hush that lay over the crowd. His eyes stayed down, running over the white stones of the floor, interspersed by the occasional inlaid image of an animal. Tony had once explained to him the heraldic significance of all the animals, looking down on it from the minstrels gallery with both his arms wrapped around Martin.

A pang of loss speared Martin’s heart. God, how was he meant to get through this pain?

When he got to the platform, Stane glared at him until he turned and sat in the single chair placed in the centre of the dais.

 _Tony’s chair_ , he thought, automatically. Up until a few hours ago, there used to be several chairs up here. Not just for Martin as well, but for Rhodey and Pepper and Stane, and whoever else Tony wanted by his side because, _seriously, guys, I hate hanging out like a lone lemon, c’mon, even a Lord wants some company, right?_

Stane stayed standing at the front of the dais, so that when he started speaking and all eyes went to him, Martin was essentially relegated to the background.

“People of Iron Castle,” said Stane, “this is a sad day for us all. Lord Tony Stark was a great and noble man, and his loss will be felt by us all. I’ve known him since he was a small boy and I know his intelligence, his creativity, and his charm were key to the success of the Stark lands in recent years.”

Oh god, it was a eulogy. A eulogy given by the man that had as good as killed Tony. Martin clenched his hands around the arms of the chair and tried to keep himself from dissolving into tears again. He looked up at the ceiling, which Tony’s grandfather had decorated with gold and red stars scattered around the Stark crest, and blinked until the tears went away.

“I have personally made sure that all those involved in the attack have been hunted down and executed,” carried on Stane, and Martin could see more than a few people frowning at that. Stane’s hard gaze swept over them, no doubt noting names to give to his men to keep an eye on. “But although justice has been served, it will not bring Lord Stark back to us.” He paused as if overcome with emotion. “One of the greatest joys of the last year of Lord Stark’s life was his marriage to Lord Martin, a union that typified his support for the common people and desire to better their condition.”

What the hell did that mean? Tony and Martin’s marriage had been because they loved each other, not because Tony had been on some kind of social justice crusade. Martin glanced around at the crowd and realised there were rather more frowns at him than there had been. Obviously, the reminder that their new Lord was the son of a chandler was unwelcome.

Which was probably why Stane had said it, Martin realised. God, he was so bad at politics. This whole speech was aimed at undermining Martin and boosting Stane, in order to minimise any protests there might be once it became clear where the power really lay.

“I hope you will all support the new Lord Stark as fully as you did Lord Tony, and give him all the guidance he’ll need to rule this estate,” said Stane. He turned back towards Martin. “Join me in pledging loyalty to Lord Martin Stark.”

“Lord Martin Stark,” repeated the crowd in a rote manner, not sounding very happy about it. Given that Stane had just pointed out how completely inexperienced and unprepared Martin was for this, he couldn’t blame them.

There was an awkward silence as the crowd all stared at Martin and he slowly became aware he was meant to be doing something. Oh god, now what? His eyes leapt to Stane, who managed a helpful but embarrassed smile, then gestured for him to stand.

Martin stood up on rubbery legs. Was he meant to be saying something? What did a new lord say when his people pledged their loyalty?

“Thank you,” he managed, then realised he was probably far too quiet for most of them to hear, so repeated it louder.

Stane looked pained, although Martin could see the gleam of amusement in his eye. That bastard had set this up so that Martin would look like an idiot.

Suddenly, it all became too much. Tony was _dead_ , and it was this bastard’s fault, and Martin wasn’t going to stand here and be his puppet. He turned back to the crowd, fixing his eyes on the one person he knew was a friendly face, Lady Knapp-Shappey’s son Arthur, and spoke directly to him. There was absolutely nothing scary about Arthur.

“I’m sorry if I don’t know all the correct words or ceremonies,” he said, as loudly and clearly as he could manage. “Tony was never a particular fan of those sorts of things, as I’m sure you were all aware.” He had to stop and take in a deep breath as he remembered how Tony used to go into a rant about pointless ceremonies and traditions at the drop of a hat, and how the only way to snap him out of it was with a thorough kiss. “I do know that his land and his people were extremely important to him, and I promise that I will do everything in my power to protect them, just as he would have wanted.”

He’d run out of words, but it seemed that was enough, because someone in the front row started clapping, and a moment later the rest of the hall had joined in. Martin held still for it, heart thumping in his chest, and hoped like hell that he’d be able to hold true to his vow.

****

Stane was furious when they left the hall, but there were too many people around for him to express it. He followed the men taking Martin back up to his room, and fear clutched at Martin’s heart as he wondered exactly how Stane was going to react. They passed a window and he glanced at it, imagining just running and diving out for a moment. They were high enough up that he’d probably be killed instantly on landing. Just like Tony.

He didn’t have the courage for it.

“Where was Potts?” he heard Stane hiss at someone behind him. “I told you to make sure she was there.”

“We couldn’t find her. She wasn’t in her rooms.”

Stane gave a rage-filled growl. “So, you’ve not only lost Captain Rhodes and half his men, but Pepper Potts as well? Useless! We need anyone who might cause trouble under our thumb. Put out a search; scour the keep, the castle, the town, the surrounding area, everywhere. Find them, and bring them to me.”

“Yes, my lord.” Footsteps hurried off.

At least not everyone had been killed. Martin hoped that Pepper and Rhodey were able to get away. It was too late for Tony, and it was probably too late for him, but maybe they’d be able to do something to stop Stane and help Tony’s people. They didn’t deserve to have a bastard like Stane running things.

When they got to Martin’s room, Stane followed him inside and shut the door behind him. Martin backed away from the look on his face, wishing he’d taken Rhodey up on some of his offers of fighting lessons. He’d just never really thought he’d need them, not with Tony by his side.

“What did I say?” asked Stane, advancing on Martin. “I said to just stay quiet and let me do the talking. You couldn’t even manage that, you useless shit.” He threw a punch at Martin’s stomach that he wasn’t quick enough to avoid. Pain exploded through Martin’s body and he cried out, skipping back to get away from the next hit and finding the wall behind himself. Stane hit him again and he curled over, trying to protect himself.

“Pathetic,” said Stane, grabbing Martin by the collar of his tunic and throwing him onto the bed, hitting him hard enough that Martin thought his ribs might break.

“Stop, please stop!” he stuttered, flailing at Stane with his hands.

Stane spat on him. “Not a chance. I promised you pain if you defied me, remember?” He grabbed hold of the Stark crest around Martin’s neck and pulled it off, dragging the chain over Martin’s face. He grabbed it by the crest and then whipped at Martin’s chest with the chain.

A line of blazing pain lit up along Martin’s ribs. He curled up tighter, turning his back to Stane as he whipped the heavy chain down at him again and again, catching him on the arm, the shoulder, across his back. He could hear himself whimpering with every blow, begging for mercy as searing pain criss-crossed his body.

Stane didn’t let up until Martin’s face was wet with tears and his back felt like it was on fire. “Don’t ever do anything like that again,” he said. “You do exactly what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it. Understand?”

“Yes, yes, okay,” said Martin, through his sobs. “Please, don’t hit me again.”

“Don’t make me hit you again,” said Stane. He coiled the chain up in his hand, then frowned, rubbing at one of the links. “You’ve got blood on it. What would Tony think?”

He wouldn’t care. Tony had never cared about the trappings and symbols of power, but he had cared about Martin. He’d loved him like no one else Martin had ever known, and now he was gone and Martin was alone again.

His tears of pain morphed into tears of sorrow as Stane left. His whole body ached, his head was foggy with pain and crying, and his grief was more painful than both. It felt like it was crushing his chest, closing in around him with the realisation that this was it, this was his life now. This time yesterday, he’d had everything. He’d had Tony, who was as good as everything, and now he was alone, and a prisoner, and going to be forced to marry Stane before he was eventually murdered.

“Hey, hey, Spitfire,” said a voice, and for a moment Martin thought he was hallucinating. He started to turn, then stopped when it pulled at the wounds on his back and raised his head instead.

Tony was there, standing by the side of the bed with one hand hovering over Martin’s shoulder as if he wasn’t sure where was safe to touch. “What has he done to you?” he asked, with horror.

Martin stared at him. “You died.”

Tony didn’t look dead. He had dirt smudged on his cheek, but there was no sign that he’d jumped in a well and killed himself earlier today.

“Yeah, sorry,” said Tony, wincing. “Um. Surprise?”

Martin stared at him for a heartbeat, then sat up and wrapped his arms around Tony, pulling him in close. He was warm and solid and alive, and he put his arms gingerly around Martin in return, trying to avoid Martin’s injuries

“I’m so sorry,” he said into Martin’s shoulder. “I couldn’t get us both out, and I thought you’d be okay because he needed you.”

“I wasn’t okay,” said Martin. “I thought you were dead.” He was crying again, tears soaking into Tony’s tunic. “I thought you were dead,” he repeated.

“Hey, hey,” said Tony. “Oh man, Spitfire, I’m so sorry, I wanted to let you know quicker, but we had to get everyone safe before Stane’s guys came for them.”

He ran a hand up over Martin’s hair, stroking over it.

“Pepper,” realised Martin. “And Rhodey and his men.” He pulled back so that he could look at Tony. “How the hell did you survive?”

Tony gave a half-shrug. “So, fun fact. The Stark family has historically been obsessed with secret passages. This whole castle is riddled with them. There’s one in that well that leads back up through the cellars.”

“Secret passages,” repeated Martin.

“Yeah,” said Tony, and he gestured at a wooden panel next to the fireplace that had slid to one side to reveal a dark hole. Martin stared at it with shock, wondering why he hadn’t noticed it earlier.

“Has that always been there?”

“Yep,” said Tony. “Rhodey and I used to play around in them all the time when we were kids, but I don’t think anyone’s even thought about them since. Obie definitely doesn’t know about them, thank god.”

Rhodey’s head appeared through the hole with a firm scowl on it. “My Lord, get to the point.”

Tony gave him an epic eye-roll and waved a hand at him. “Yeah, yeah, give me a second with my traumatised husband, would you?”

He looked back at Martin. “Look, Spitfire, I want nothing more than to take you back through the passages with me, and if that’s what you want then I totally will, we can get you far away from here, where Obie can never touch you again. Yeah, let’s do it, we can-”

“My Lord, “ snapped Rhodey, followed by a deep sigh. “ _Tony_ ,” he added, which meant this was serious. For all that they had been childhood friends, Rhodey was usually scrupulous about using the right title for Tony. “Don’t make his decisions for him.”

“What do you mean?” asked Martin.

Tony let out a long sigh and dropped his head against Martin’s, pulling him in close. “I can’t leave him here, Rhodey,” he said. “Look at him. Look what Obie did to him.”

Martin held him close, but looked at Rhodey. “What do you mean?” he repeated.

Rhodey stepped through into the room properly, stepping up to the foot of the bed. “Look, Martin,” he said. “This is shit. I get that. It makes me so mad to see you like this. If I wasn’t already pretty set on hacking Stane limb from limb, I’d be heading that way now. The thing is, though, this is bigger than that. We’ve got to think about the whole castle, about all the people on Stark lands, about everyone relying on Tony.”

“Jesus,” muttered Tony, but Martin nodded at Rhodey. Tony’s role as Lord Stark meant that his fate was far more important than Martin’s; not because of who he himself was, but because of the thousands of people whose lives would be affected by his death.

Tony still had an arm around Martin’s waist but he’d leaned back to inspect his injuries, gentle fingers tracing around the bruises Stane had left on his shoulders and back.

“I got as many of my men into the passages as I could when I realised what was happening,” said Rhodey. “There’s a way out that emerges outside the walls, so I sent out messengers to our allies, then the rest of us did our best to get hold of anyone that Stane might target: Pepper, Jarvis, people like that.”

That was a relief. Martin had been trying not to think too much about how many people Stane might have killed in his bid for power.

Tony pressed a kiss to Martin’s shoulder, next to one of the places where the heavy chain had ripped through his tunic. Martin glanced at him and got a deprecating shrug, as if caring about his husband’s injuries was something Tony needed to apologise for. Martin couldn’t have him thinking that, so he kissed Tony on the lips in the hope it would wipe the look off his face.

Rhodey cleared his throat. “Stane has no idea about the passages, so we’re all safe in there for now,” he said. “At the moment he’s got his men out in the surrounding countryside looking for us and he’s got no idea we’re all hiding under his nose.”

“Because he might have been my father’s right hand man, but even dear old dad didn’t trust him enough to tell him about that little Stark secret,” said Tony. He pulled away from Martin, getting up and leaving Martin feeling cold, but he only went as far as to grab the bowl of water and a rag from the washstand, then settled back on the bed behind Martin so that he could start cleaning his wounds.

“Right,” said Rhodey. “But the minute you disappear from a locked room…” he said to Martin.

“He’ll realise there must be a secret way out,” realised Martin, wincing as Tony pressed a little hard on a particularly painful one. “He’ll look for it.”

“He’ll find it,” said Tony. “It’s only a secret if you’ve not got armed guards smashing every wall in the place. Jesus,” he added in a mutter, “look what he’s done to this tunic, you looked sexy as hell in this and now it’s rags.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Concentrate, Tony.”

“I am,” said Tony. “I’m concentrating on my husband, because you’re saying stuff I already know.” He nudged Martin’s shoulder. “This would be easier if you took the tunic off.”

Rhodey let out a long breath and made an impatient gesture when Martin looked at him. “Go ahead, I’ve got people watching. We’ll know if Stane’s headed this way.”

Martin reached to pull the tunic off, but it pulled on his injuries and made him hiss with pain, so Tony took over for him. “Hey, it’s okay, just let me…” He pulled the tunic off over Martin’s head. “There you go, all done.”

He put it down on the bed. Martin hadn’t realised just how trashed it was now, torn in several places and soaked with blood. From Tony’s lower murmur of dismay, his back wasn’t looking much better.

Martin took a deep breath and forced himself not to think about how much it hurt and how it had felt to be powerless against Stane’s attack. He fixed his eyes on Rhodey. “So, I need to stay here so you’re all safe.” His voice came out very small, and wavering more than he’d wanted it to.

“No,” said Tony. “Nope, no, it’ll be fine, we can totally get you out of here, no way I’m leaving you here with that asshole. We’ll get you out, then get everyone out. Head for Bruce’s, he’s closest.”

Martin felt sick. “Stane’s got all his men out looking,” he said. “If they find us, they’ll kill everyone.”

Tony made a rude noise. “His men are shit, we can totally avoid them.”

Martin looked at Rhodey, who gave him a grave look that meant he wasn’t so sure. “That’s not the only issue,” he said slowly.

Tony glared at him. “There’s no issue. There’s just us getting Martin out of here and safe as soon as possible.” He sounded furious, but his hands were still gentle as he washed Martin’s wounds.

“My messengers will be getting through to our allies soon,” said Rhodey, ignoring Tony and just looking at Martin. “It will take them a day or two to gather their forces, then they’ll come over here to take Stane down.”

“Hopefully,” said Tony. He set the rag back in the bowl of water, then leaned in to kiss Martin’s shoulder on one of the patches where he wasn’t hurt. Martin grabbed for one of his hands now that they weren’t occupied and held on tight, squeezing his fingers as the realisation of what he was going to have to do filtered through.

“The thing is,” said Rhodey, “Stane will have complete control of the castle when they get here, so they’ll have to lay siege to it. If he’s found the tunnels, he’ll have blocked them off so that they can’t sneak in that way.”

“And Iron Castle has never fallen to a siege,” said Martin, slowly. Sieges were long and bloody, and it would be Tony’s people dying on Stane’s behalf, the ones Martin had vowed to protect only a few hours ago.

Prince Steve and half his court had come to Martin and Tony’s wedding, filling the castle up with nobility, all of whom had seemed to be best friends with Tony. Martin had been more than a little overwhelmed, surrounded by the grandest people in the land and wondering how a chandler’s son had ended up there. He’d ducked out to find a quiet place to have a meltdown and been found by Sir Clint Barton, one of the prince’s captains.

“Hey,” he’d said, handing Martin a goblet as if he had no idea Martin was inches away from hyperventilating. “Figured you could use this.”

“Thank you, my lord,” said Martin, automatically, and got a laugh.

“Oh, I’m no one’s lord,” said Clint. “I mean, yes, okay, I married Bucky so technically I’m Lord Barnes, but you’ve been Lord Stark since this afternoon, so I reckon we’re even on that score.”

“Right,” said Martin, and took a long gulp of drink, because he was _married to Lord Stark_ , oh god.

Clint gave him a long, careful look. “Okay, so, I reckon you could do with some advice about being a commoner suddenly thrust into this crazy world of titles and ceremonies and all the crap that goes along with the nobility.”

“You’re a commoner?” asked Martin, then instantly wanted to die. Oh god, why would he ask that?

Clint just shrugged. “Oh yeah. Born to a bunch of dirt-poor farmers, worked my way up the army ranks until Lord Fury made me and Nat captains in his army in the war against Hydra, which was where I met the captain of the Prince’s Guard and, well. We ended up getting married, and now I’m technically Lord Barnes.” He shrugged, as if there were nothing remarkable about the story. “I can handle being Sir Clint, because I worked damn hard to rise up the ranks and get knighted, but I hate being called ‘my lord’ when it’s just that I married Bucky, who’s really only a very minor lord, just, you know. One that’s best friends with the prince.”

He shook his head. “My point is, there’s a couple of things that you should probably know about being married to a lord when you aren’t one. The first is that some of these guys are never going to stop looking down on you. There’s nothing you can do to stop that, you need to just ignore them and remember that you outrank most of them now, and get to be married to Tony to boot, so fuck what they think.”

“Right,” said Martin, who wasn’t sure he’d ever manage to not give a fuck about what anyone thought.

“And the other thing,” said Clint, slowly. “It’s- well. Being a noble ain’t like being a commoner. They’ve got duties and obligations, things they’ve been brought up to know they’re responsible for, and sometimes those have to come first. Not often, not all the time, but if the situation calls for it, you’re gonna have to accept that you’re second to Tony’s lands and people. Just like I sometimes end up second to the Prince’s safety, because however much Bucky loves me, he’s the captain of the Prince’s Guard and that means something.”

At the time, Martin had just nodded, not really understanding, but he got it now. Tony was Lord Stark, and that meant something. And Martin was Lord Stark as well, and that should mean the same thing.

He took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

“No,” said Tony, “no, you won’t. Martin, I won’t let you be hurt again.”

Martin shook his head. “I won’t be,” he said. “I’ll go along with whatever he wants, so he won’t have a reason to beat me again, and he needs me alive. You said it. He needs me to be his figurehead for now, he’ll leave me alone.”

Rhodey gave Martin with steady look. “We can’t ask you to do this.”

“You haven’t,” said Martin. “You’ve explained the consequences of leaving, and I’ve decided to stay.” He looked at Tony, catching his face with one hand. “My decision, Tony. I’ll stay here and distract him, you just make sure that when the others get here, they can take him out.”

“Spitfire,” said Tony, very quietly, then leaned in and kissed him. “I want to keep you safe.”

Martin clutched tighter at his hand. “You have to keep everyone safe,” he said. “That’s what being Lord Stark means.”

The look on Tony’s face was so torn and anguished that Martin had to kiss him again so that he couldn’t see it.

“I fucking hate being Lord Stark,” muttered Tony.

“No, you don’t,” said Martin.

Tony sighed. “No, I don’t,” he agreed, “I just hate that it has to come first, every time. I’m so sorry, Martin, you should have a husband who can put you first.”

Martin shrugged. “I don’t want any other husband. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and knowing how seriously you take your responsibilities only makes me love you more.”

There was a double knock from the wall by the door and Rhodey glanced over with a frown. “Tony, we need to go. That’s Stane heading this way.”

Tony made a face but gave Martin one last kiss then stood up and headed for the entrance to the passage. “I’ll keep an eye on you,” he said to Martin just before he ducked through. “I love you, Spitfire, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I love you too,” said Martin with a dry mouth. Oh shit, was he really doing this? Was he really going to stay here and wait for Stane to come back?

Tony gave him one last look before he ducked through the hole. Rhodey nodded at Martin. “Good luck, Lord Stark,” he said, then followed Tony through. A moment later the panel slid back over the hole, hiding it from sight.

Rhodey hadn’t ever called Martin Lord Stark before. It was technically his official title, but he was no more comfortable hearing it than most of Tony’s court were using it. Apparently, that had changed.

Footsteps sounded outside and Martin braced himself, wishing he’d had time to put on another tunic.

Stane came in with a scowl like thunder, and Martin flinched away from him. He grabbed for his ruined tunic as if it would protect him, clutching his fingers in the material.

“At least you’re still here,” said Stane, with a sneer. He looked angry. Fear shot through Martin and he reminded himself that Tony and Rhodey were just the other side of the wall.

“We’re going to have a little chat about how you’re going to act,” said Stane, grabbing a chair and moving it to the centre of the room before he settled in it. “You’re going to follow my instructions precisely, do you understand?”

Martin nodded, too scared to manage words.

“And you’re gonna put some clothes on first,” added Stane. “I’m not interested in staring at your pale, skinny chest.”

Martin nodded a few too many times, getting up and heading for his wardrobe. _It’s just a few days,_ he reminded himself. Prince Steve and his lords and knights would turn up, Tony and Rhodey would let them in, and Stane would get what he deserved. Martin just had to wait a few days.

****

Most of Stane’s rules for Martin’s behaviour came down to staying away from everyone and not speaking unless he had to, so Martin spent the next day alone in his room. Stane’s men brought him lunch, but when it came time for dinner, Stane himself turned up, carrying the crest again.

“You need to show your face,” he said. “Look sad and keep conversation to a minimum. If anyone asks about the running of the castle, tell them that you’re relying on my council and I’ll step in.”

Martin nodded as meekly as he could, putting the crest on.

The head table on the dais had two chairs at it. Stane shadowed Martin as he headed up to it, putting a hand on the small of his back in what probably looked like a comforting, protective gesture to the rest of the hall, but made Martin’s skin crawl.

When Martin sat down, Stane stayed standing.

“This is a dark time for all of us,” he started, and Martin had to clench his fists at the sudden surge of rage. He wasn’t typically an angry person, but it was horrible to listen to Stane talking as if this whole thing wasn’t his fault.

“Losing Tony is going to be hard for all of us,” continued Stane. “I’d like to propose a minute of silence before we start eating, in his memory.”

The rest of the hall rose to their feet and Martin followed their lead.

“Lord Tony Stark,” said Stane, formally, and they all bowed their heads.

Martin tried to recapture how he’d felt when he’d thought Tony was dead so that he’d have the right facial expression for anyone watching, then had to quickly push the surge of grief aside as tears threatened. Instead, he just stared down at the plate on the table in front of him and fervently hoped that Stane would get his comeuppance for all of this.

Dinner was a subdued affair for the whole hall, but especially for Martin, trapped next to Stane and trying to find enough appetite to do more than just push his food around his plate. Stane didn’t bother speaking to him, which was a relief, but just having him there was making Martin’s skin tight with fear.

He was very aware of all the eyes in the room that were on him, all of them probably finding him wanting as their new lord. God, he wished Tony was here beside him, being all confident and outgoing and sucking all the attention to himself so that Martin didn’t have to deal with it.

The flutter of movement from high up on the wall caught his attention and he glanced up to see that one of the enormous tapestries that covered the upper part of the walls was fluttering as if caught in a draft. He blinked, then realised he could see an arm behind it where there should only be the blank stone of the wall. He tore his eyes away, staring back down at his plate and hoping like hell Stane hadn’t followed his gaze.

That must be another of the secret passages Tony and his men were in. Someone was up there, keeping an eye on the meal below.

God, it might be Tony.

Just knowing that Tony or one of his men was watching made Martin feel so much better. He wasn’t alone, and his husband wasn’t dead, and Tony was going to make this right, somehow.

Once the last course had been cleared, Stane kicked Martin in the ankle and gave him a pointed look, then a nod towards the door.

Tony had always stayed around for a while after dinner, going down to mingle with his court. Apparently, Stane didn’t think Martin should be doing the same.

Martin stood up and headed for the door, trying not to meet anyone’s eyes as they all watched him go.

He was halfway there when Lady Knapp-Shappey stood and stepped forward, halting him. “Martin,” she said, then corrected herself. “Lord Stark. I know this must be a horrible time for you, but I hope you know that you have friends you can turn to.” Her eyes flicked to Stane and then back to Martin. “Whatever you need, just let us know.”

Lady Knapp-Shappey had been Martin’s employer before he’d met Tony. His father had been the head chandler for her household, before her husband had died and she and her son had moved into the castle. Her house had a private chapel with an old tower that Martin had climbed every chance he could as a boy. He’d got caught up there more than a few times, and eventually she and him came to an agreement. She’d given him a place in her household and access to the tower whenever he wanted, and in return he cleaned and repaired the tower. It meant every day up high, where it felt like he could scrape the sky. He’d loved every moment of it.

He managed a nod to her now, all too horribly aware that if he said the wrong thing, Stane wouldn’t hesitate to hurt him again. “Oh. Um, that’s very kind of you, but I’m fine, really.” Oh god, that sounded like he wasn’t bothered by the death of his husband at all. “Well, not fine, it’s awful and painful and I miss him so much,” he had to pause as the memory of the grief that had hammered him when he’d thought Tony was dead surged up again, “but I can’t...I just want to be alone right now.”

“He’s being looked after,” added Stane, putting a hand on Martin’s shoulder, right over one of his injuries. Martin flinched away, then forced himself to hold steady when Lady Knapp-Shappey’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m just a bit overwhelmed,” he added, which was more accurate than he wanted it to be. This whole thing, all the emotions it had stirred up and now having to rely on his terrible acting skills to keep Tony safe...he wasn’t sure he could manage it. Oh god, he was going to mess up and make Stane angry again, or he was going to somehow give Tony and Rhodey and the others away and get them killed, or...something. Martin wasn’t the person you trusted with important things like this. He felt tears pricking at his eyes and tried to blink them back, without much success.

“I just want to be on my own,” he added, because if he was alone in his room, maybe Tony would be able to sneak in and give him a hug.

Martin could really do with a hug right now.

“Okay,” said Lady Knapp-Shappey. “Let me know if you need anything.” Her eyes darted to Stane and back. “Even if it’s just moral support. You know I’m on your side.”

Martin managed a weak smile and nodded, then Stane swept him off.

“Interfering old bag,” he muttered once they were outside. He nodded at two of his men. “Escort Lord Stark to his room.”

They stepped forward and Martin fell in line with them, but he couldn’t stop himself from glancing over his shoulder into the hall as Stane went back inside. Lady Knapp-Shappey had sat back down and had her head bent close to Sir Douglas, an old friend of hers. As Stane went past, they both gave him a frown, then glanced back at each other.

Martin followed the guards back to his room and hoped that they weren’t going to try anything. Because they’d both known him when he was a child, before he’d met Tony, they were often a bit overprotective. He could remember Sir Douglas taking him to one side and giving him a talk about the dangers of philandering lords preying on commoners when Tony had first started courting Martin. In hindsight, he’d only been looking out for Martin, but at the time it had been highly embarrassing and awkward for both of them.

Once Martin was back in his room, he slumped down on the bed and ran his hands over his face. He was sick of being cooped up like this, sick of being so scared all the time, sick of not having Tony right there with him for most of the day.

Mostly he just felt sick. God, why hadn’t he done as Tony wanted him to and just escaped from Stane while he could?

There was a scrape and the wooden panelling opened up. Martin got to his feet as Tony ducked through, unable to stop himself from crossing over to grab him, holding on as tightly as he could.

“Hey, hey,” said Tony, holding on just as tightly. “It’s okay, Spitfire, it’s all gonna be okay. I’ve got you.”

“I hate this,” said Martin, and lost control of the tears he’d been holding in. “I hate it, I hate Stane, I hate him.”

“Yeah, me too,” said Tony tiredly, stroking a hand over Martin’s head. “C’mon, hey, Spitfire. I’ve got guys watching and it looks like he’s gonna be glad-handing folks in the hall for a while, so c’mon, let’s…” He walked Martin back over towards the bed and they curled up together, Martin clinging onto Tony’s tunic and pressing his face into his neck as he tried to control his tears.

Tony just held him until his tears slowed, then started pressing kisses to his face. When Martin was together enough to kiss back, Tony gave him a grin. “That’s it, Spitfire,” he said. “Gotta keep it together, right?”

“I love you,” said Martin, without really meaning to.

Tony grinned at him and kissed him again. “And that’s the best thing ever.”

Martin gripped tighter at him, then let out a long breath, because he was right. Meeting and marrying Tony had been the best thing that could have ever happened to him, better even than finding a dragon who’d take him for a flight, which had been a dream of his ever since he was a small boy staring up at the sky.

Even Stane couldn’t ruin that for them.

****

Tony stayed most of the night, then slipped away in the early hours before the dawn, which made Martin feel a bit like he was in a fairytale. Or, well, he’d been feeling like that ever since a handsome, charming lord had pursued and married him, but this was a different fairytale, a darker one.

A servant brought him breakfast and hot water at the normal time, so Martin washed himself and changed his clothes, looking for the darkest tunic in his wardrobe and wondering if he should be getting some black ones made up. If Tony really had died, he wouldn’t want to wear any other colour for… well. For the rest of his life, really. Life without Tony would be so empty, he’d want to show that on the outside as well as feeling it on the inside.

He still had the Stark crest, so he put that on as well, trying not to feel like an imposter. He was Lord Stark in Tony’s absence and it was much better he wore it than Stane did.

Stane came in, unannounced, not long after Martin’s breakfast had been cleared away. “You’re going to spend today in here,” he said. “Your little emotional moment last night was great, I’ve told everyone you’re inconsolable and can’t be seen.”

Martin tried to restrain a sigh. He was sick of staring at these four walls. Even with the dragon motif over the fireplace and the tapestry of the view from the top of the keep, they were fairly boring. He usually went up to the battlements several times a day to see the view for real and stare up at the clouds, and he was starting to feel very claustrophobic being kept shut up in here.

“Tomorrow you’re going to announce me as your regent,” said Stane. He pulled out a sheet of paper and dropped it on Martin’s desk. “You need to memorise this. You can read, can’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” said Martin, stung by the implication. “Wait, regent? Those are for when a child becomes lord.”

“Well, you’re basically a child,” said Stane. “Actually, if Tony had had a child, it would probably know more about leading a great house than you do. Peasants don’t exactly get educated on leadership.”

“I am not a peasant,” said Martin, stubbornly.

Stane just sneered at him. “You’re nothing. You shouldn’t even exist. Lord Stark; what a joke. Your only saving grace is that you’re not a woman, so I don’t have to worry about some squalling brat turning up.”

Martin clenched his jaw. Tony’s lack of an heir had been a topic of conversation within his court for some time, although Tony refused to listen to any talk about it. More than one member of his petty council had taken Martin to one side and tried to talk him into persuading Tony to adopt a child. Martin had always refused to get involved because it hadn’t felt like his place, but he was beginning to think that keeping out of all the politics and governing had just left him woefully unprepared.

“I had to watch so carefully, back in his philandering days,” carried on Stane. “Even a bastard would have put a crimp in my plans. Tony was always so _soft_ , he’d have taken it in. Not like Howard, who just paid off the mother.”

It took Martin a moment to realise what he’d heard. “Tony’s father had another child?” he said. Tony had a sibling? He’d never even once hinted at that and Stane was, at least, right about one thing. Tony would have embraced any chance for more family.

“A daughter,” said Stane, dismissively. “Yet another Stark to be a thorn in my side. Once I’ve got the legitimacy of being your regent, dealing with her will be at the top of my list.”

“Dealing with her,” repeated Martin, with a sickening feeling.

Stane grinned and ran a finger across his throat. “I can’t have any other claimants once you’re dead.”

Martin didn’t know what to say to that. He was still shocked that Tony had a sister. God, how was he going to tell him? And how were they going to protect her if they didn’t know who she was?

“This is how power is seized,” said Stane. “Rival claimants are eliminated. This is how Tony’s ancestors carved out the Stark lands. Don’t be so squeamish.” He pointed a finger at the paper. “Memorise that. We’ll announce it after dinner.”

He swept out, leaving Martin reeling. He sank down into a chair and put his head in his hands, feeling the pressure building up in his skull. Oh god, he’d just wanted to be married to the man he loved, why did it have to come with all this?

The wall panel slid open and Tony stumbled through. From his wide-eyed, pale look, Martin could tell he’d heard everything.

“The fuck?” he said. “Howard had a bastard? Why the hell did no one tell me?” He flailed his hands through the air.

Martin had got up as soon as Tony had appeared and hurried over to him. He put his hands on his shoulders and then, when that didn’t feel enough, just took him in his arms and held him close. “I know,” he said. “I know, it’s huge.”

“Why did no one tell me?” asked Tony again as he collapsed against Martin, clinging onto his tunic with shaking hands. “I’ve got _family_. I mean, other than you, obviously you’re the best family I’ve got, or will ever have, but...Christ, Martin.”

If Martin hadn’t already known that Tony was thrown by this, the fact that he’d used Martin’s name, rather than Spitfire or another of the many nicknames and petnames he had for him, would have given it away.

Tony straightened up so that he could look in Martin’s eyes. “And that shitbag wants to kill her. Before I even know who she is. No, no fucking way.”

“Do you want me to try and stop him?” asked Martin, although he had absolutely no idea how he’d do that. He glanced over at the speech waiting for him on the desk. “I could refuse to name him as regent.” Oh god. He’d be so angry if Martin did that. He’d hurt him again, probably far worse than he had before, and Martin would give in. He already knew he would. He was far too much of a coward to hold out if he was being hurt, but if Tony wanted him to, he’d give it a try.

“No,” said Tony, “I can’t stand you being hurt again. You’ve got to go along with everything he says, that’s not…” He shook his head, then made a frustrated noise. “That bastard,” he muttered. “I can’t stand the idea that he’s just getting away with all this, that he thinks he’s going to actually get to be Lord Stark.”

“He’s not,” said Martin. “You’re going to beat him, take back your castle, find your sister, and make sure he gets punished.”

“I’m going to cut his treacherous head off,” said Tony. He took a deep breath and rubbed at his face. “But how the hell am I going to do that before he kills my sister?” He blinked and shook his head. “Jesus. Sister,” he muttered.

“You’ll think of something,” said Martin, with great confidence. “You’re a genius, you can solve anything.”

Tony snorted. “Your confidence in me is touching,” he said, “but feels a bit misplaced when I’m living in the walls having faked my own death and left my husband in the hands of a complete bastard.”

“I’m fine,” said Martin, weakly.

Tony shook his head. “You’re not. And you shouldn’t be. Shit, nothing about this is right.” He pulled away from Martin and paced across the room, running his hands through his hair. “There must be a way,” he said, spinning and turning back.

Martin just stood back, out of his way, and let him work it through. He’d seen Tony pace like this when trying to solve a problem so often, and usually it ended with some startling brilliant idea that no one else would have ever come up with.

Tony’s eye fell on the paper and he snatched it up, reading it through with a frown, then tossing it down again. “Arrogant asshole,” he said. “Of course he’d want you to stand up in front of everyone and announce him, like some kinda fucking-” He cut off and his eyes went large. “Ohh,” he breathed slowly, turning to Martin with a lit-up face. “In the Great Hall, in front of everyone.”

Martin blinked at him. “Um. Yes?”

Tony clapped his hands. “Okay, my genius is sparking, I’m incredible,” he darted over and pressed a kiss to Martin’s lips, then headed over to the hole in the wall. “Just gotta check a few things, talk to Rhodey, get the details right...I’ll be back in a bit, don’t go anywhere.” He ducked into the passage then stuck his head back through to grin at Martin. “I love you, Spitfire.”

“I love you too,” replied Martin, but Tony had already disappeared.

****

In the absence of anything else to do, Martin memorised the speech Stane wanted him to give. It was definitely boredom that prompted that, not terror of what Stane might do if he came back before Martin had done so.

He’d just about got it engraved on his brain and was perched on the window sill, staring out at the bit of the sky that he could see above him and wondering how long it would be before he was able to look at the sky properly again. He missed how it felt to stand on the battlements, looking up at the clouds and feeling as if he were one of them. He especially missed how it felt to do that with Tony’s arms wrapped around him, his voice soft in Martin’s ear as he talked through some crazy idea for an invention he’d had, or complained about some minor aspect of court politics that Martin didn’t fully understand.

A raised voice from outside the door pulled him away from his memories. He moved closer to hear it properly and recognised it as Sir Douglas’s. He rested his ear against the wood of the door so that he could hear his words.

“I’m not interested in your orders, I’m telling you to inform Lord Stark that I am here to see him so that he might make his own decision about letting me in.”

“We’ve been told not to disturb him,” said an unfamiliar voice that must belong to one of the guards Stane had posted. “Only Lord Stane is allowed in.”

“Lord Stane,” repeated Sir Douglas with disdain. “What’s that old viper up to?”

The guard didn’t reply, or if he did Martin didn’t hear it. There was a long sigh from Sir Douglas. “Fine. Please tell Ma- Lord Stark that I was here, and that I am at his disposal if he needs a friend to talk to.”

“Yes, sir,” said the guard, and Sir Douglas’s steps retreated down the corridor.

Martin retreated from the door to the bed. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. On the one hand, Sir Douglas might well count as a friend, of sorts, and certainly he wouldn’t have anything to do with Lord Stane’s plan, but on the other hand he was notorious for taking advantage of every situation to further his own ends. He might want to genuinely offer Martin a shoulder, but the idea of getting in with the new lord was probably on his mind as well. He’d been one of Lord Howard’s friends, but his influence within the court had diminished under Tony.

Still, it was nice to know that people hadn’t just forgotten about Martin, locked up here alone. He tried to take comfort in that.

When Tony came back an hour or two later, he had the manic gleam in his eyes that meant he’d had a terrible idea, and Rhodey was behind him, scowling.

“We have a plan!” announced Tony, rubbing his hands together.

“ _You_ have a plan,” corrected Rhodey. “I’m not okay with it.”

Tony waved a dismissive hand at him. “It’s gonna be fine, it’s a great plan, we’re gonna be done with this whole nightmare by tomorrow morning, don’t be a worrywart.”

Martin looked at Rhodey’s resigned facial expression and braced himself. “What’s the plan?”

“I’m going to kill Stane,” said Tony. “Tonight, when he’s all distracted by getting announced as regent.”

“In the middle of the Great Hall? With everyone watching?” asked Martin. He shook his head “I don’t get it. Why not just kill him somewhere private?”

Tony shook his head. “You think I haven’t been trying to find a chance to do that? He never goes anywhere without a whole bunch of his men. He even has a handful keeping watch when he sleeps, and there’s no passage going into his rooms.”

“But all his men will be there tonight as well,” said Martin. “And it’s a formal occasion; he’ll be in armour.”

“Yeah, exactly,” muttered Rhodey.

“Oh, stop worrying,” said Tony. “It’s perfect. If you can get him to stand in the right place, I can kill him from the hidden gallery, I’ve pulled together all the bits I’ll need for a crossbow that will send a bolt straight through his armour - it’s gonna be great, mindblowing weapons technology, seriously, I’m so impressed with my genius-”

“Yeah, that’s probably what it’ll say on your tomb,” said Rhodey.

Tony ignored him. “And we don’t need to worry about his men kicking off, because the whole court will be watching. Stane’s plan only works as long as none of my bannermen know it’s a coup, because they’ll rise up against Stane if they get a hint of treachery.”

“That only works if his men don’t have any personal loyalty to him,” said Rhodey. “Because if they do, then they’re all going to come after you, regardless of who’s watching. Or after Martin, if they work out he’s involved,” he added.

Martin twitched and hunched his shoulders over, imagining the feel of a sword running him through.

“Nope,” said Tony, taking Martin’s hands. “No way, won’t let it happen. Rhodey will have his guys all ready to come out and protect you, but it’s not going to be a problem. Only gold is keeping Stane’s men loyal. With him out of the way, they’ll just lay down arms.”

Martin took a deep breath. “Right, okay,” he said, then cleared his throat and said it again when it came out sending very unsure.

Tony squeezed his hands. “We won’t do this if you don’t want to, Spitfire, but,” he made a face, “it’s the best way to get rid of him before he can go after my sister.”

Martin really, really wanted to say that he didn’t want to do this. He found it all too easy to picture all the things that would go wrong with the plan, and he’d be the one standing next to Stane where he could be stabbed or beaten or killed.

The look in Tony’s eyes held his tongue, though. He clearly wanted this so badly, wanted to get rid of Stane and the threat to the life of the sister he’d only just found out about. What kind of a plan relied on Martin, though? There was no way he wouldn’t mess up somehow and let everyone down.

“I was watching the other night, you know,” said Rhodey, and Martin pulled his eyes away from Tony to look at him. “When you thought Tony was dead, and you told the castle you’d do your best to protect them. I really respected that.”

Martin took a deep breath. He remembered what he’d thought then, that he needed to step up and take his role on the political side of things. He’d spent the last six months pretending that he was married to Tony, not Lord Stark, but the truth was the two weren’t separate. He’d vowed to share Tony’s life, and it needed to include his responsibilities as well as his privileges.

“What do I need to do?” he asked, squeezing Tony’s hand tightly as if he could steal some of his courage for himself.

Tony beamed at him. “Nothing hard, seriously, it’s going to be so simple, you just need to get him in the right position for me. It’s kind of a narrow gap for me to be shooting through. If Stane isn’t in exactly the right place I won’t have the shot.”

“Okay, where’s the right place?” asked Martin.

“Oh, you’re gonna love this,” said Tony. “I need you to get him to stand on the dragon, Spitfire.”

The gold and red dragon inlaid in the floor just in front of the dais was Martin’s favourite of the heraldic animals in the floor of the Great Hall. When they’d gotten married, Tony had shifted all the furniture a crucial couple of feet to the right so that Martin was standing on it as he’d said his vows.

Martin smiled back at Tony, hoping it didn’t look as nervous as it felt. “I think I can do that.” God, he hoped he could do that.

****

By the time Stane came to get Martin for the announcement, his anxiety had risen to make every part of his body clammy with sweat. He wanted, more than anything, to just climb under the bed and hide or, even better, find the way to open up the secret passage and run through it into Tony’s arms.

If he did that though, Stane would win. He couldn’t let that happen.

“You know what you’ve got to do?” asked Stane, and Martin managed a jerky nod. “Good. Don’t fuck this up,” said Stane, gesturing at the open door.

Martin rose on trembling legs and headed out. There was a cluster of armed men outside, all of whom gave him a look of pure disdain. Martin took a deep breath and raised his head.

 _You’re Lord Stark,_ he reminded himself. _You can do this. Tony needs you to be able to do this. ___

__It didn’t help much._ _

__The atmosphere in the Great Hall was tense. Martin got the feeling that Stane’s attempts to pretend everything was fine hadn’t been entirely convincing, if the looks they got as they walked in were anything to go by. Sir Douglas and Lady Knapp-Shappey were sat together again, on one of the tables near the dais, with Arthur beside them. When Arthur caught Martin’s eye, he gave him a wave and a cheerful grin, so apparently not everyone had caught on to the mood._ _

__Martin gave him a nod back, then climbed up onto the dais. He eyed the dragon inlaid in the floor in front of it and wondered how the hell he was going to get Stane down there. God, he was going to mess this up and Tony wasn’t going to get the shot and Stane would take control and murder Tony’s sister and force Martin to marry him and-_ _

__He took a deep breath and forced that train of thought to stop, flicking his eyes up to the tapestry that hid the secret window. It was billowing out from the wall in an odd fashion and he gritted his teeth, reminding himself that Tony was watching. He couldn’t let him down. He looked around the gathered nobles and thought about all the other people in the castle, down in the town, spread out over Tony’s lands. He couldn’t let any of them down._ _

__“My Lords,” he said, starting on the speech Stane had written for him, then having to stop and clear his throat when it came out shakily. “My Lords and Ladies,” he tried again. That was better, although from the frowns at the back, he still wasn’t loud enough. “People of Iron Castle,” he continued, wishing the Great Hall wasn’t quite so great. How was he meant to be loud enough for everyone to hear?_ _

__“At this difficult time I am grateful for the support and loyalty of you all, which I know I can rely on to continue as I come to terms with my new position.”_ _

__He took a step forward and slightly to the left so that he was directly in front of the dragon. Shit, this was going to be no good if he was on the dragon, how did he get Stane down onto it?_ _

__What did Stane want? He wanted to be seen getting power and authority. He wasn’t going to step down from the dais and put himself in an inferior position unless he thought he was getting that._ _

__“I am aware I have much to learn, which is why I am taking the step to elect a Lord Regent to stand at my side.”_ _

__There was a murmur across the hall at that. Stane shifted his weight, resting his hand on his sword hilt as if he could just cut down any opposition. Martin really hoped that wasn’t his plan._ _

__Martin had his own plan now, but he had no idea if it was going to work. His mouth had gone dry with fear as he reached up to take hold of the Stark crest around his neck. “By the power and authority of the Stark family,” he managed, “I elect Lord Stane to be my Lord Regent.” He took the crest off, glancing at Stane, who was frowning at him. This hadn’t been in his script._ _

__Martin gestured at the space in front of him and the murmurs rose in volume, becoming faintly outraged. The Stark crest was reserved for the ruling Lord Stark. Handing it over to an heir or regent was unprecedented._ _

__Stane’s mouth quirked and Martin couldn’t tell if he was angry or amused, but he couldn’t refuse Martin’s obvious direction to move down in front of him with the whole room staring at him._ _

__He stepped down and came to stand right on the dragon, right where Martin wanted him. “Let all my people treat his word as if it were mine,” said Martin, carrying on with Stane’s script. He raised the crest to put it around Stane’s neck, hating that he was going to have to give away something so important if Tony didn’t make his move soon._ _

__There was a heavy thunk and a large metal-tipped bolt flew over the heads of the crowd and buried itself in Stane’s chest, pitching him forward so that he fell partially onto the dais, landing on Martin’s feet._ _

__Martin froze with shock, even though he’d known this was going to happen, and then danced back a couple of steps, away from Stane’s gasping body._ _

__Pandemonium started up as the crowd started to panic but Martin didn’t have eyes for anything other than Stane’s face, which was glaring at him with homicidal rage. His hand flailed at his sword hilt as if he was going to draw it and run Martin through, then went limp. A shuddering breath left his body and his eyes slid shut as he died._ _

__Martin stayed where he was, still staring. Oh god, was he really dead? That had seemed too easy, somehow._ _

__“Protect Lord Stark!” he heard someone shout, and Sir Douglas jumped onto the dais, drawing his blade and placing himself between Martin and the rest of the room. A handful of other knights followed his lead, although none of Stane’s men seemed to have any interest in moving to his aid. In fact, they didn’t seem to know what to do at all. A few had run forward to the dais, then paused when it became clear Stane was dead, and the rest were just holding their positions, glancing around at each other._ _

__“No need!” called out a familiar voice, loudly enough to cut over the panicked hubbub. “We’re both all fine!”_ _

__The tapestry had been thrown back and Tony appeared in the tiny window on the other side, grinning with glee. Martin’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of him._ _

__“What the fuck?” Martin heard someone in the crowd say._ _

__The doors of the Great Hall were pushed open and Rhodey strode in, followed by his men. “Lay down your arms!” he shouted._ _

__Stane’s men-at-arms drew their swords and dropped them to the ground without putting up a fight._ _

__Martin couldn’t take his eyes off Tony and it seemed that most of the rest of the hall couldn’t either. He dropped a rope from his window and slid down it to the ground, and was immediately surrounded by a pack of confused nobles._ _

__Sir Douglas glanced at Martin. “Stane was holding you prisoner,” he said with realisation._ _

__Martin nodded. “Oh, thank god that’s finally over,” he said, and his knees wobbled as relief flooded through him. Sir Douglas caught his elbow to keep him up. “Stay on your feet,” he said. “Put the crest back on. You need to give the right impression if you want respect.”_ _

__Right. The performance wasn’t over yet. Martin straightened up and put the crest back around his neck._ _

__“Yes, yes, it’s really me, get outta my way, I need to give my husband a hug,” he heard Tony say from the middle of the crowd. A gap appeared in the crowd and Tony emerged from it, striding across the room with his eyes fixed on Martin and a grin on his face._ _

__Martin moved to the front of the dais, stepping to the side to avoid Stane’s body._ _

__“Spitfire!” said Tony, leaping up beside him and wrapping him up in his arms. “You did great, I’m so impressed, you’re the best.”_ _

__Martin clung onto him, then pulled away, very aware of the eyes on them, no doubt all trying to work out just what had happened, and whether or not Martin had been complicit in Stane’s plan._ _

__“It’s over?” he asked, and Tony nodded._ _

__“You’re safe,” he said._ _

__Martin nodded. “Okay. Okay, then,” he started to take the crest off again, “you can have this back.”_ _

__Tony stopped his hands. “Nah, I reckon you’ve earned it.” He was pitching his voice so that it carried. “You suffered to protect our people, and did exactly what was needed to bring an end to Stane’s plans. I’m so grateful, Lord Stark.”_ _

__Martin wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Thank you for killing that bastard,” he managed in the end._ _

__Tony grinned, rubbing his hands over Martin’s shoulders. “Took me long enough. Too long,” he said, then kissed Martin, which was a relief because it meant he didn’t have to come up with the next line in this play they were putting on for everyone._ _

__When Tony pulled away, he turned to the hall, taking Martin’s hand in his. “This whole thing has been a mess,” he said. “Sorry about that. Now that back-stabbing shit is gone, normal service will be resumed. Sir Rhodes is just going to be sorting out a few loose ends, so it’s probably better if everyone disperses back to their rooms for a bit, but it shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours, so how about we have a feast a bit later to celebrate? Yeah, that sounds good to me too. Okay, shoo, be gone.” He flapped his hands at the crowd, and they started moving towards the door._ _

__Tony turned back to Martin, taking his other hand and squeezing them both tightly. “I don’t know if I say this enough, but you’re the best damn husband ever.”_ _

__Martin let out a stuttering laugh. “You just rescued me from being forced to marry Stane,” he said. “Surely that makes you the best husband?”_ _

__“No way,” said Tony, “it’s totally you.”_ _

__“Agree to disagree?” suggested Martin, and gained another kiss. God, he loved this man so much._ _

__A man-at-arms ran into the hall, his boots thumping against the stone. “There’s an army approaching!” he announced, breathlessly. He blinked when he realised that he was looking at Tony and that Stane’s body was lying next to him, surrounded by blood, but he wasn’t thrown for long._ _

__“They’re flying the Prince’s banners, as well as those of Lord Banner, Lady Maximoff and Prince Thor.”_ _

__Tony blinked. “Oh, hey, Thor must have been visiting Steve, that’s cool, I haven’t seen him in ages.” He glanced around at the disarray in the hall. “I gotta say, they all got here much quicker than I thought they would. Someone should probably break the news to the kitchens that this evening’s feast is gonna be bigger than expected.”_ _

__“I’ll organise it,” said Pepper, stepping out from a corner Martin hadn’t realised was occupied. He wondered if there was another entrance to the secret passages over there. At some point, he should really get Tony to give him a tour. “I hope you’re not expecting anything close to the usual standards with this little notice, though.”_ _

__Tony shrugged. “There’s plenty of drink, right? Iron Castle is practically built on alcohol. Just keep that flowing and no one will mind if the food is a bit rough and ready.”_ _

__She let out a sigh but bustled off._ _

__Tony looked at Martin. “I was gonna spend the next two hours cuddling the hell out of you, but I’m gonna have to go meet the army and prove I’m all fine so they don’t lay siege,” he said. “Sorry, Martin.”_ _

__Martin shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine. Avoiding a siege comes before cuddling.”_ _

__

____

****

As soon as Martin had the chance, he headed up to the top of the keep and stepped out onto the battlements. It had been far too long since he’d been up here.

There were a couple of lookouts up there, but they just glanced at him and then let him be, used to him coming up here.

He stared up at the clouds for a moment, then looked down at the landscape below. The army had started setting up camp about a mile away from the castle, and he could see tents going up and flags flying overhead.

A small troop of riders were leaving through the main castle gate with the Stark banner flying over their heads. That would be Tony going out to greet them. They looked so small, and he found himself thinking of his favourite game as a child, hanging out over the highest wall he could find and imagining what it would be like to fly from it, looking down at everything laid out below him.

Most of the town was visible from where he stood, chimneys beginning to smoke as the people started cooking their dinners. Somewhere down there was Tony’s sister. Martin tried to picture her, but he didn’t really have that kind of imagination. Did she know who her father was? Who her brother was?

He took in a deep lungful of air, then turned away to go back downstairs. If they were going to have Prince Steve for dinner tonight, there was a lot to be done.

****

The nobles and knights that came over with the two princes for the feast were less than impressed that they’d come all the way to Iron Castle only to find that the traitor was already dead.

“Steve had organised a week at his hunting lodge for us,” said Prince Thor as they settled around the table Pepper had laid for them on the dais. “We were to hunt boar. The boar of your land are smaller than of my home, but wilier. They give great sport.”

“Okay, okay, I get it, you’re all pissed,” said Tony. “What can I say? I guess I’m just too awesome to be taken down for long.” His gaze caught on something in the hall, and he turned to signal a servant over to him. “Hey, go tell Sir Douglas and Lady Knapp-Shappey that there’s seats for them up here, would you?”

The servant bowed and darted off.

Martin frowned at Tony. Lady Knapp-Shappey and Sir Douglas were both minor nobles, and weren’t particular friends of Tony or anyone else around the table. Well, except maybe Martin, but he didn’t really have friends in the nobility, just people he knew a bit better, or who didn’t treat him with disdain.

Tony just beamed back at him, then turned to where Clint was complaining that he’d got all excited for a fight and then been let down.

“All that anticipation and build up, and then nothing but frustration.” He nudged his husband. “You get what I mean, right?”

Lord Barnes rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, you can take your ‘frustration’ out on me later.”

Clint visibly perked up. “Awesome.”

Prince Steve let out a groan. “Bucky, seriously, do you have to?”

Lord Barnes grinned smugly at him. “Oh yeah. Always.”

Lady Knapp-Shappey and Sir Douglas had arrived and were sitting down, doing a pretty good job of not looking at all surprised at the invite.

“Hey, guys,” said Tony, as the servants topped up their glasses. “Good to see you. I just wanted to thank you both. I know you both tried to help Martin when he needed it, and you came to his defence immediately when you thought there might be danger, Sir Douglas. I’m very grateful.”

“Well, of course,” said Douglas. “It was just what any loyal knight would do, in the circumstances, and Martin -sorry, Lord Stark- is a friend.” He cleared his throat. “Just how grateful, would you say you are? I mean, in tangible terms?”

Lady Knapp-Shappey dug an elbow into his side. “Don’t be crass, Douglas.” She fixed a sharp look at Tony. “You know, there’s a parcel of land I’ve been disputing with Ruth.”

Tony laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you see a sign of my gratitude. That’s what you do for your friends, after all.”

Lord Banner cleared his throat. “There are some texts in the Stark library that I’ve been interested in studying.” Tony turned a glare on him, but Banner just gave him a small smile in return. “It was two very long days in the saddle to get here, you know.”

“And nothing to do once we arrived,” added Sir Natasha. “The message said that it was too risky to move without the support of an outside force, you know.”

“Yeah, well, something came up that forced my hand,” said Tony. “Stane started making plans and it was more risk to wait.”

“Plans?” asked Lord Banner, then glanced quickly at Martin and shook his head. “I probably don’t want to know. There’s no one to take it out on if I get angry now.”

“No,” said Tony. “It wasn’t-” He stopped and frowned, then fixed a gaze on Sir Douglas. “You were my father’s drinking buddy.”

Douglas paused, mid-sip. “On occasion,” he said, carefully.

“Were you aware that I wasn’t his only child?” asked Tony.

“Well, yes,” said Douglas. Tony stared at him with shock, and Martin put a hand on his leg to try and reassure him. Tony’s hand covered his a moment later, clinging on tightly.

“You knew?”

“It was a fairly open secret amongst his friends. I suppose, now that Stane is dead, I’m the only one remaining,” said Douglas.

Tony muttered, “Oh my god,” dragging a hand through his hair. “And no one thought to mention to me that I had a sister I’d never met?”

It was Douglas’s turn to frown. “But, I was told-” He hesitated. “Ah,” he said, with realisation. “Yes. Lord Stane made several comments over the years that led me to believe that you knew but didn’t want any acknowledgement of her. He mentioned that it was rather petty of you not to arrange some sort of support for her.”

Tony’s grip on Martin’s hand tightened so much that he felt his bones complain, but he didn’t say anything.

“That unbelievable bastard,” said Tony. “Kept me in the dark about my own family, and then made me out to be the dick. Oh man, I really want to kill him again.”

“Your father had another child?” asked Prince Steve. “Your sister?”

“Half-sister,” said Tony. He made a face. “And now Stane’s dead, I don’t even know where to find her.”

Douglas cleared his throat. “Her mother was the daughter of a tavern keeper, near the east gate.”

Tony stared at him. “Would you be able to find the tavern?” he asked Douglas.

“I should imagine so,” said Douglas, consideringly.

Tony let out a very long breath. “Excellent. We’ll have a day out tomorrow, then.”

“My lord,” said Rhodey. “Don’t you think we should concentrate on your castle before we go wandering the streets?”

“Nope,” said Tony. “C’mon, Rhodey. She’s _family_. I’ve kinda got a dearth of that. Don’t know if you’ve noticed from all the muttering about my lack of an heir that goes on.”

Prince Steve let out a long sigh. “God, I know that one.”

Sir Natasha fixed him with a sharp look. “If you need help finding a wife, I know a woman who-”

The Prince held up one hand. “Oh no, no more of you setting me up.”

Sir Natasha subsided, but there was a small smile hovering at the corner of her mouth.

Martin turned his hand over to take Tony’s and give it a squeeze. “We’ll find her,” he said to him, quietly.

Tony gave him a grateful smile. “Man, whatever did I do to deserve you?” he said, then got an expression that usually meant trouble. “Oh, oh right, I forgot, I was gonna…” He grabbed his glass in one hand and rose to his feet, spreading his arms to the hall as the conversations died down and attention turned to him.

“Obviously it’s been a pretty rubbish few days,” he started. “I wanted to thank everyone whose loyalty and courage got us through this crisis, but especially my excellent husband.” Martin froze up. Oh god, everyone was now looking at him.

“He willingly put himself in great danger to ensure my safety, and for the good of the people of this castle, and was instrumental in bringing Stane down. I know I’ve been saying it a lot over the last few months, to just about anyone who stands still long enough to listen, but he really is the best husband.” He raised his glass. “To Lord Martin.”

The hall all rose to their feet and raised their glasses to him, and he felt a blush rise up in his face as they all repeated Tony’s toast. He gave them an awkward smile, wondering if there was some kind of formal etiquette for responding to a toast. Should he be toasting Tony back? Oh god, please say not, he’d done more than enough public speaking for one week.

Tony beamed down at him and sat back down, which was a relief. Martin gave him a wobbly smile and then kissed him, just in case he’d been intending to say anything else.

****

Getting into his room that night and finding the adjoining door to Tony’s room standing open was like a breath of fresh air. He went over and ran his hands over the wood. Jarvis was inside, setting out Tony’s nightclothes.

“Good evening, my lord.”

“Good evening,” said Martin. “It’s good to see you back.”

“I am relieved not to be in the walls anymore,” said Jarvis. “They were rather draughty.” He stepped back from the bed and cast an eye around the room, as if daring a fault to present itself. “I believe I am finished here, unless you have any other instructions?”

“Um. No,” said Martin. One day, he was going to get used to ordering servants around. Just like he was going to get used to a hall full of nobility looking at him, or making small talk with princes. “You can go.”

Jarvis bowed and left. Martin stayed where he was, leaning on the open door, then moved forward so that he could look out of Tony’s window. The stars were glimmering overhead and the lights of the town were twinkling below. Further off, he could see the campfires of Prince Steve’s army. He took in a deep breath, finally feeling all the tension of the last few days starting to relax.

“Just a reminder that you can’t actually fly,” said Tony behind him, and Martin turned to see him taking his cloak off and dumping it on a chest.

“Not that you know of,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Tony laughed and came over to wrap his arms around Martin. “Nope, you’re not allowed to fly away.” He kissed Martin. “In the stories, enchanted dragon husbands always stay at least seven years.”

“Not sure that’s going to be long enough,” said Martin, putting his arms around Tony’s waist and leaning into him, enjoying the sense of having him solid against him and undeniably there. “Maybe I’ll just stay forever.”

“That sounds like it could work,” agreed Tony, kissing him again. “Hey, so, I kinda need to talk to you about something, but also it’s been a long few days and I’ve missed you like crazy, so how about we get ready for bed so we can snuggle while we talk?”

Well, that sounded ominous. Martin felt himself freeze up and Tony immediately darted in to kiss him again. “Nothing bad, no need to panic, just...well. Just a thing that’s come up.”

“Okay,” said Martin, then took a deep breath. How scary could it be, compared to everything else that had happened this week? “Getting into bed sounds great.”

Tony grinned at him. “Yep, pretty much always, when it’s me and you.”

They didn’t actually end up talking until quite some time later because somehow they ended up getting distracted by being back in bed together. Martin could still feel the shadow of the grief that had crashed down on him when he’d thought Tony was dead, and it felt like the only way to eradicate it was to kiss over every inch of Tony’s skin and feel the warmth of his body against his.

“Have I mentioned lately that I love you?” asked Tony, when they were curled up together with Martin’s head resting on his shoulder. “And not just when you’re blowing my mind in bed, although, Jesus, Spitfire, I’m definitely not complaining about that.”

Martin laughed, pressing a kiss to the nearest piece of bare skin. “I love you too,” he said, then had to swallow down a surge of emotion. He pressed his forehead against Tony’s shoulder, breathing in the smell of his skin. “God, Tony. I love you so much; I couldn’t cope when I thought you were dead. You can’t do that to me again.”

“Hey,” said Tony, stroking a hand over Martin’s head. “Hey, hey, c’mon, Spitfire, sweetheart. I’m so sorry, I just couldn’t see any other way. I won’t do it again. I’ll make sure you’ll always know the truth.”

Martin took a deep breath, choking back the tears, then raised his head and managed a smile. It felt a bit wobbly. “It’s fine, I get why, just. It hurt.”

“I know,” said Tony. “It hurt to just hide away and watch as Stane hurt you as well. Let’s never do that again, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay,” said Martin, all too aware that they had no control over what happened in the future.

Tony cleared his throat. “Actually, that’s kinda what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Your death?” asked Martin, staring at him. “I don’t, Tony. I don’t want to talk about that at all, not right now.”

“No, it’s. Well, sort of, but not really,” said Tony. “Look, Rhodey and Pepper took me aside and harangued me a bit about something I really should have considered years ago, and definitely since we married, and pointed out that if I had sorted it out, Stane’s plan would have fallen through completely.”

“What’s that?” asked Martin.

Tony took a deep breath. “I need an heir,” he said, as if confessing a deep secret, rather than saying what everyone had known for years.

“Um,” said Martin. “Yes?”

Tony blinked at him, then rolled his eyes. “You’re my husband,” he pointed out. “Don’t you have more to say than that? We’ve never talked about children.”

Martin shifted up off his shoulder, sitting up against the headboard. This was a much more serious conversation than he’d been expecting tonight, although Tony was right. It was long overdue.

“It didn’t seem like my place to talk about it,” he said. “It felt like Lord Stark business, not Tony-and-Martin stuff.” Tony turned to prop himself up on his elbow, opening his mouth to protest, but Martin cut him off. “I don’t think that any more. I get it, okay? I’m Lord Stark too, and this is stuff we both need to think about. I didn’t really think about the responsibilities I took on when I married you, I’m sorry.”

Tony sat up so that he could kiss him. “Hey, no,” he said. “Don’t be sorry, you’re awesome. You stepped up when you were needed. I couldn’t have wished for a better husband over the last few days.”

Martin could imagine all kinds of better husbands, ones who’d been able to fight back or even just not curled up in a weeping pathetic ball while Stane hurt them. He didn’t say that though, because if Tony hadn’t realised, he wasn’t going to point it out.

“I think I always just assumed that you had a plan for an heir,” he said, changing the subject back. “Like, a cousin or something that you were expecting to have a child you could adopt.”

That was the usual practice for a couple who were unable to have their own children, to formally adopt a relative’s child.

Tony shook his head. “Have you seen the Stark family tree? It’s very sparse. The only cousins I have are so obscure that we must share less than half a drop of blood. Plus, they’re kinda assholes, I’m not sure I’d want any of their children in my house.” He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “See, this is why I’ve not been thinking about it. There isn’t an obvious answer. You know, there are plenty of children without parents in the town, we could just go to the orphanage and-”

“No,” said Martin, immediately. “No, are you kidding? You married a commoner husband, you can’t have a commoner heir as well. Whoever you adopt, they need to have noble blood.”

“ _We_ adopt,” said Tony, taking Martin’s hand. “This should be a joint decision, because it will be a joint responsibility.“

“Yes,” said Martin, with uncertainty. He’d never thought he’d be a parent, or really had any desire to be one.

“Hey, it won’t be very hands on,” said Tony. “Hire a nurse or two, a tutor, all that to look after it, and check in every so often to make sure it’s all going fine. I barely saw my parents when I was growing up.”

That didn’t sound like a very nice way to grow up, but Martin didn’t say anything.

“There must be a parentless noble kid somewhere,” said Tony. “Or one with a whole fleet of older siblings and parents who won’t mind giving one up. I’ll mention it to Steve and the others tomorrow, they might know someone.”

“Okay,” said Martin, nodding. “Okay, yes. That sounds like a good idea.”

Tony put his arm around him and kissed him. “We’ll have time to get used to it,” he said. “These things always take ages to arrange.”

Martin nodded again, and let himself be pulled back down under the blankets, shifting to wrap an arm around Tony’s chest. Tony was right, there was plenty of time to worry about this later. For now, he was just going to enjoy getting to sleep with his husband again.

****

The next day, there was an argument about who was going on the trip to try and find Tony’s half-sister. Everyone wanted to go, but Tony didn’t want to descend upon his sister with a massive entourage that included two princes, which seemed fair, but Rhodey also didn’t want to let Tony wander around the town without a guard when they hadn’t completely accounted for all of Stane’s forces.

“You need at least three people capable of fighting with you,” said Rhodey. “And me.”

“Of course you’re coming, squishyboo,” said Tony. “C’mon, I can’t go meeting new family without taking my old one. You’re coming, and Martin, and Sir Douglas is the only one who knows where we’re going, so I guess that leaves two places.” He glanced around at the others. “You could draw straws,” he suggested.

“Steve isn’t going,” said Lord Barnes. “He’s no good at looking like anything other than royalty, and we’d need more fighters to protect him.”

Prince Steve opened his mouth to protest, Lord Barnes fixed him with a glare, and Prince Steve deflated. “Fine, okay,” he said, then glanced at Prince Thor. “Princes never get to have any fun.”

Prince Thor slapped an arm around his shoulders, jolting him with the force of it. “Fear not, friend! We shall make our own fun. It has been many days since we last fought together on the training field!”

“Okay, as fun as that sounds to watch,” said Clint. “I’m gonna go with Tony. Too many nobles will freak this poor woman out. You need people who aren’t important or noteworthy.”

Lord Barnes scowled at him. “You’re important _and_ noteworthy,” he growled at him.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Clint, waving a hand. “You know what I mean.” Lord Barnes’s scowl didn’t lessen.

“If we’re trying not to scare her, you need to take at least one woman,” said Sir Natasha. “I’ll come.”

“Nat, you’re the most terrifying person I know,” said Clint.

She winked at him. “Because you’re a man.”

“Okay,” said Tony, clapping his hands. “There’s our team, then. Everyone go and put something on that won’t make them stand out a mile in a tavern.”

****

There were mixed results on the attempt to not look like a group of nobles. Martin had just pulled out one of his old tunics from before he’d moved up to the castle because he had the advantage of actually having been a commoner. Clint and Sir Natasha did as well, and would have blended in with any crowd in their outfits. Tony was wearing one of the cloaks he’d thought made him incognito when he was courting Martin, and which had never been believable. Rhodey looked exactly like what he was, an armed knight with his oldest cloak thrown over his mail and weaponry.

Sir Natasha glanced around at them all and let out a quiet sigh, then gave Clint a meaningful look. He just smirked back at her. “Hey, could be worse,” he said. “The Prince could have insisted on coming.”

Sir Douglas was dressed just as he always was, which Martin probably should have expected. He led them down to the bustle of the area around the east gate, then turned to skirt around inside the town walls. Martin kept close to Tony as they pushed through the crowded streets, firmly holding his hand so they didn’t get separated.

There were two taverns opposite each other when Sir Douglas finally stopped. One was a large, bustling inn with a wide courtyard filled with travellers and their horses, carriages and baggage. The other was smaller, with a shabby sign of a spider’s web creaking above the dark doorway. Martin wished he could be surprised when that was the one Sir Douglas headed towards.

It looked cheerier inside. Large, well-scrubbed wooden tables were scattered around under windows that let in more sunlight than Martin would have expected. A couple of the tables were occupied and there was a short man behind the bar, cleaning a glass. He gave them a wary look as they came in, his eyes settling on the weapons that everyone except Martin had poorly-concealed under their cloaks.

“Ale all round,” announced Clint, heading over to him. He glanced over his shoulder. “Get a table, guys, first round is on me.”

“Big spender,” said Sir Natasha, settling at one of the tables.

Clint shrugged. “It’s Bucky’s money.”

Tony snorted and glanced at Martin, and Martin knew he was remembering the arguments they’d had when they’d first been courting, when Martin hadn’t wanted Tony to spend his money on him.

The barman helped Clint carry the pints over to the table.

“I wonder,” said Sir Douglas as he took his pint and set it in front of himself, “if Mary Fitzpatrick is still here, or if you know where we could find her?”

The man stopped short and shot him a frown. “Mary?” he said. “What you be wanting with Mary?”

“We just want to talk,” said Sir Natasha, smiling and looking more harmless than Martin had ever seen her.

The man didn’t look convinced, and then his eyes caught on Tony’s face, and his frown deepened. “Wait here,” he said, and hurried off out the back.

“This is going well,” said Rhodey. He hadn’t touched his pint and had one hand on the hilt of his sword, glancing around at the rest of the pub with deep suspicion.

The barman came back out, followed by a woman who fixed a stern look on them and strode over. Martin felt Tony straighten up beside him and he looked her over, trying to see some sign of familial similarity. She had dark hair like Tony, but that was about all he could see. Mostly she just looked angry.

“I’m May Reilly.” Oh, not Tony’s sister, then. “This is my pub. I heard you’re looking for Mary?” she asked, hands on her hips.

“Yes, we’re…” started Natasha, but didn’t get very far.

May’s eyes travelled around the group until they hit Tony, where they abruptly halted. “You,” she said with surprise. “Don’t you think you’re a bit late?” She added, “My lord,” rather belatedly and with a hint of aggression.

“Definitely,” said Tony, leaning forward with the smile that could usually charm anyone. “But in my defence, I only found out about Mary yesterday.”

The smile didn’t seem to be working on her, although her glare did relax slightly. “Yesterday?” she repeated. “Twenty years ago a man came here from you with a bag of gold and told my grandfather that it would be best to keep quiet about Mary’s origins.”

“Not from me,” said Tony. “It appears that Lord Stane took it upon himself to get involved and keep secrets from me. This was one of them.” He shrugged casually but Martin could feel the tension in his body next to him. He reached out under the table to take his hand and got a grateful squeeze back.

“I just want to meet Mary,” continued Tony. “And apologise for the way this whole thing was dealt with. If I’d known, I’d have been here years ago.”

May gave him a long, steady look, then relented. She sighed as her hands dropped from her hips. “You really are too late. I’m afraid Mary died four years ago.”

“Ah,” said Tony, very quietly, and it sounded like he’d been punched in the gut.

Martin gave up on being subtle about being there for his husband and put an arm around his shoulders. Tony leaned into it.

May’s eyes darted between them and she made a twisted expression of indecision before shaking her head. “You really didn’t know about her?”

“Not a clue,” said Tony. “Stane kept it from me and now of course it’s too damn late. Shit, fuck that guy, seriously.”

The note in his voice made it very clear how upset he was. Martin thought about how excited he’d been about finding some family and felt his heart break for him. He leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead, wishing there was something more he could do.

May nodded as if to herself. “Come out the back, my lord,” she said. “I don’t really want to talk about this here, but there's things you should know.”

Tony stood up immediately, dragging Martin with him. Rhodes stood as well and got an exasperated look. “I'm not about to be beset by assassins in the kitchen,” said Tony. “Stay here.”

“My lord-"

“Stay here,” repeated Tony, with a note of command that made Rhodey sink back down into his seat with a scowl.

May took them through into the kitchen, where a girl was working on a large stack of dirty dishes and a small boy was crouched in front of the fireplace, playing with some of the wood stacked next to it.

“Go help Cedric behind the bar,” May told the girl, who was giving them a wide-eyed look. She wiped her hands and disappeared out into the pub.

May spared the boy a brief glance before she gestured for Tony and Martin to sit down at the table.

“Mary was _my_ sister, my lord,” she said with a hint of possessiveness. “Our grandfather owned this pub. Our mother was... Well, she was the sort of woman who met Lord Stark in her father’s pub and then had his illegitimate child nine months later. Two years later, she met a trader who left before she even knew she was pregnant with me. She wasn’t reliable as a mother, so Grandfather looked after us while she was off having fun. She died when I was ten and Mary was thirteen.”

“I'm sorry,” said Tony.

“Don’t be,” snapped May. “He was a good man. We were happy. And he left us this place when he died, so we’d have a future. We didn't need anything from your family, so it didn’t matter that we didn’t get it.”

“That doesn't mean my family shouldn't have been there,” said Tony. “My dad and Stane were assholes. Pretending she didn't exist was a dick move.”

May’s angry expression didn’t clear. “When I heard you were marrying a commoner I was furious. What made him so special when you wouldn't even come to meet your commoner half-sister?”

“Well, I mean, everything,” said Tony. “Martin’s pretty much perfect in every way, there's no one else like him, but I would have been here in an instant if I had known. I swear.”

May glanced at Martin with the same expression that most people gave him the first time they heard Tony talking about him like that. Martin gave her a half-shrug that he hoped conveyed how little he understood what Tony saw in him.

“I don’t have any close family, you know, I would definitely have wanted to get to know a sister,” added Tony. He clenched one of his hands into a fist. “And now it’s too late. Stane managed to rob me of that as well as everything else.” He took a deep breath then shrugged, as if it wasn't that big a deal.

“You really didn’t have a clue that your father might have had other children?” May asked, giving him a long look. “It’s not exactly uncommon for a lord to have illegitimate children.”

“Nope,” said Tony. “I mean, I didn’t know him that well, but I figured he’d have enough respect for my mother to keep it in his pants. Apparently not.”

May’s examination of him turned narrow-eyed, then she glanced over at the boy by the fire. “Peter, come here.”

The boy looked up at her, then back at whatever he’d built with the wood.

“Peter,” repeated May, and he got up with reluctance to come over to her.

She lifted him up into her lap. “This my nephew, Peter Parker,” she said. “My sister died giving birth to him.”

Martin felt his eyes widen and he glanced over at Tony, who looked like he’d been hit by a plank. “He’s Mary’s son?” When she nodded, he reached out under the table to grab Martin’s hand, who squeezed it back, looking at the boy and trying to work out if he looked like Tony at all. He’d only seen portraits of Tony’s father, but Peter didn’t seem to look like either of them.

But then, Martin had never been very good at spotting family resemblances.

“Say hello to Lord Stark, Peter,” said May.

Peter’s eyes went wide and impressed. “Lord Stark? Who lives in the castle and has all the soldiers and the horses and the shiny carriage?”

“Yeah, but you can call me Tony,” said Tony, holding out a hand. “Maybe Uncle Tony? No, nope, not that, just Tony is fine. C’mon kid, don’t leave me hanging, take my hand.”

Peter glanced at May for reassurance and then carefully reached out to shake Tony’s hand.

“Good boy,” said May.

“Is he really my uncle?” asked Peter.

She hesitated and looked at Tony.

“Whatever you want me to be,” said Tony. “I’m not trying to take anything from you, but I want to be in his life. He’s my closest blood relative, you know. I want to know him at least, even if it’s too late for his mother.”

May nodded to herself, then glanced back down at Peter’s face. “He’s really your uncle,” she said. Peter gave Tony an awed look. “You know,” added May, “he likes making things too, how about you show him your trebuchet?”

Tony’s face lit up. “You’re making a trebuchet?”

Peter scowled. “It won't work.”

“Show me,” said Tony. “Bet we can get it to work.”

Peter slid off May’s lap and took Tony over to whatever he’d been working on by the fire. They both crouched down and in seconds were lost in conversation.

May let out a very long sigh, then glanced at Martin. “You don’t say much.”

Martin shrugged. “Tony usually says enough for both of us.” He looked over at where Tony was examining Peter’s toy with all the attention he gave to the projects in his workshop. “And. Um. I’m not always very coherent when it comes to the important things and this was important to Tony, _is_ IS important to Tony, he was so excited about having a sister, it’s too bad that she’s dead, no, wait, I mean, not just because of Tony, I’m sorry your sister is dead, you sounded close and-” He made himself stop talking and took a deep breath. “Is it just you looking after Peter?” he ended, weakly.

May sat back and crossed her arms, but she didn’t comment on most of Martin’s ridiculous ramble. “Yes,” she said. “Peter’s father was a soldier. He and Mary married before he left to join in the war against Hydra. He died in battle about a month after Mary did, without ever meeting his son.”

“God, that’s awful,” said Martin, and then wondered why he hadn’t sewn his mouth shut.

To his relief, she let out a sharp burst of laughter. “Yes,” she agreed. “Poor Peter was left an orphan before he was even able to understand what parents are.” She glanced back over at Peter. He and Tony were doing something to the toy that involved frowns of concentration. Martin noted that Tony had managed to get ash all over his clothes, which would probably upset Jarvis.

“He’s very clever,” she said. “I mean, most aunts say that, but he really is. He builds things like that trebuchet, and most of the time they work. I’ve started teaching him numbers and writing, but I didn’t have much schooling, just what Grandfather showed me so I could keep the books. He’s too clever not to learn more than I know.”

“Tony can help with that,” said Martin. “If you’ll let him. He can pay for a school, or a tutor, or-” He hesitated, then looked at the grin on Tony’s face as Peter set the trebuchet in motion and sent a small stone flying across the kitchen. He hadn’t seen him looking that happy in a while. “He’d have him up at the castle and show him his workshop,” he said, feeling fairly confident in making the offer. “He builds all kinds of things up there. If Peter likes that sort of thing, he’d love it.”

May was silent for a moment, then sighed. “Peter would love that,” she said, and she sounded tired. “Lord Stark, he’s- I need to check. He won’t get Peter all involved in that sort of thing and then just forget about him, will he? I’d rather Peter didn’t know him at all than that he gets to see a lord’s life and then has Lord Stark lose interest in him.”

“Tony wouldn’t do that,” said Martin, immediately. Tony had a short attention span for some things, and even some people, but he knew the look on Tony’s face right now, and how he’d sounded when he’d talked about having no family last night. If May gave Tony a chance, he’d be around for Peter as much as he could.

May nodded as Tony reset the trebuchet and Peter set up a target. Martin wondered if he should point out to Tony that this might not be an indoors game, but the projectiles were small and May wasn’t complaining.

Peter and Tony played for a while longer while Martin and May watched, then Tony picked Peter up in his arms, throwing him up into the air a little way and then catching him. He looked far more confident with a child in his arms than Martin would have imagined.

 _He’ll be a good father_ , he thought, and then why he hadn’t realised that before. Of course Tony wouldn’t adopt a child and then just leave it in the hands of nurses and tutors. He cared about people far too much for that, even if he tried to hide it. He wouldn’t be anything like his father had been.

“Okay, Peter, let me introduce someone very important to you,” said Tony, heading over to Martin. “This is my husband, Martin. He’s just about the best person in the land.”

Martin rolled his eyes, but obliged Tony by standing up to greet Peter. “It’s good to meet you.”

Peter stared up at him. “Your hair is a pretty colour.”

Martin couldn’t keep in a laugh. “He’s definitely related to you,” he said to Tony.

“We Starks call it like it is,” said Tony, unrepentantly. “Hey, uh, so, you know the thing we were talking about last night? And I said I’d ask Steve?”

“Yes,” said Martin slowly, glancing back down at Peter, who was distracted by running his fingers over the braid on Tony’s tunic. He could see where this was going. “This isn’t our choice, though.”

“No, right, of course not,” said Tony, glancing over at May. “But I don’t want to make any suggestions unless you’re on board. A partnership, right?”

Martin set a hand over Tony’s, around Peter’s shoulders. “Right,” he agreed. “Your responsibilities and duties are mine.”

Tony’s grin lit up his face. “Awesome,” he said. Peter wriggled in his arms and he set him down, then turned towards May, clapping his hands together. “Hey, so, I was wondering if I could make a massively presumptuous and kinda pushy request that you’re totally allowed to shut me down on, I just thought I’d float it out there as, you know, a thing.”

“Yes?” asked May, suspiciously. Peter had gone around the table to her and put his arms up. She lifted him up into his lap without looking away from Tony.

“So, the thing is, I kinda need an heir,” said Tony.

She let out a very long sigh. “Yes,” she said, quietly, looking down at Peter. She smoothed his hair back from his face and he pulled away from her, frowning. “I thought it might be that.”

Tony raised his hands. “Like I said, you can tell me to go fuck myself and I won’t mention it again, I just…”

Peter set his hands on the edge of the table and pulled himself up onto the top of it.

“No, I understand,” said May, steadying him for a moment until he was secure. “Everyone in the town has been waiting for you to secure your succession for years, and a child with Stark blood would be best.”

Tony blinked. “Everyone in town?” he said, glancing at Martin.

“The commoners care about avoiding a civil war after your death too, you know,” Martin pointed out. “They’re the ones that would end up suffering most, after all.”

“Okay, okay, yes, I get it, I’ve been putting this off too long,” grumbled Tony. “Seriously, I don’t need everyone on my case.”

Peter had crawled to the middle of the table and then stood up, grinning as he looked at Tony. “I’m the same height as you!”

“Oh great,” said Tony. “Another one making short jokes. I’ll have you know I’m only slightly below average, and I don’t even have to climb on the furniture.”

Peter jumped on the table and May winced. “Peter, please, come down before you hurt yourself.”

He glanced at her, then back at Tony, who raised an eyebrow. “Better do what your aunt says, aunts are notoriously wise, you know.”

Martin wondered if Tony realised how quickly he’d managed to win Peter over as Peter turned around and marched back over to May, who stood up to catch him in her arms before he got too close to the edge. Apparently, that Stark charm worked on small children as well as it did on everyone else.

“There’s my little spider,” said May, pressing a kiss to Peter’s forehead and then putting him back down. “Always climbing things.”

“I’m a monkey,” insisted Peter.

May shook her head. “There’s got to be a spider in The Web.”

The door of the kitchen opened and Rhodey marched in, stopping short when he took in the scene in front of him. “Lord Stark,” he said. “You were taking your time.”

“Yeah,” agreed Tony. “Had some stuff to chat about. Oh, hey, Rhodey, guess what? This is Peter. He’s my nephew.”

“Nephew?” repeated Rhodey, staring at Peter. “Oh man, another Stark to make my life difficult.”

“This is Rhodey,” Tony said to Peter. “He’s my best friend, and he thinks he’s funny.”

Peter stared at Rhodey, clutching at May’s arm. “That’s a big sword,” he said.

“Yes,” agreed Rhodey, drawing it in a swift movement that made Peter start back. “And as you’re a Stark, it’s at your command,” he said, turning the sword to offer the hilt to Peter.

Peter stared at it, then reached out to touch the pommel. It flared out into an elaborate shape that he traced the lines of. “How do you get metal to do that?”

“If your aunt lets you come up to see my workshop, I can show you,” said Tony. “I’ve got a forge in there, amongst other stuff.”

Peter’s face lit up and he glanced urgently at May. “Can I? Can I? Please, can I?”

May sighed, then looked at Tony. “We’ll come up and see it next week,” she said. “And I’ll let you know my decision then,” she added, her arms tightening around Peter.

Tony nodded. “Okay, awesome, sounds great. Looking forward to it.” He rubbed his hands together, then beamed at Martin, who couldn’t help smiling back.

****

It was six months later when they officially adopted Peter, and then they had to go to the palace to present him to Prince Steve as the heir to the Stark lands, which was far more pomp and ceremony than Martin was comfortable with. Peter was even more terrified though, so Martin bottled up all his nerves and did his best to come across as calm and relaxed.

“You don’t need to worry about anything,” he said to him. “Tony’s going to do all the talking, you just keep hold of my hand, and then we’ll go up and see Prince Steve on his throne. You know him.”

Peter nodded uncertainly. “He gave me a knight.”

“That’s right,” said Martin. Peter’s birthday had been the previous month, and Tony had used it as an excuse for a party. Half the court had come, and all of them had brought a present for Peter, which he’d found rather overwhelming. Martin had sympathised. He’d found adjusting to the rate that Tony bought presents for him extremely tricky after a lifetime of one or two things a year, and he’d been an adult. He’d decided they’d keep things to a minimum for Peter’s next birthday, even if it meant overruling Tony’s deep love of parties.

“We’re ready,” said the steward.

Martin took a firmer grip on Peter’s hand and managed a smile for him. “Here we go,” he said. “Easy as anything, yes?”

Peter glanced at Tony, who gave him a smile as well, then gave a determined nod. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Tony laughed. “That’s the spirit, kid,” he said, ruffling his hand through Peter’s hair. He looked up and met Martin’s eye. “The Stark spirit, right, Lord Stark?”

Martin rolled his eyes. “If you say so, Lord Stark,” he said. “I rather thought that was discovering new ways to flirt with danger.”

“Ah, Peter’s got that one down as well,” said Tony as the steward opened the doors to announce them. “Did I tell you I found him trying to climb the flagpole the other day?”

“Well, higher is always better,” said Martin, which earned him an eye-roll from Tony and a grin from Peter. He probably shouldn’t be encouraging Peter’s habit of climbing all over the castle as if falling was something that happened to other people, but he knew what it was like to want to have the best view.

“Lord Tony Stark, Lord Martin Stark and Lord Peter Stark of Iron Castle,” announced the steward, and they followed him in. The court had turned to stare at them, at the richest lord in the land, his commoner husband and his new heir. Martin felt his shoulders start to curl under the scrutiny, then Peter’s fingers tightened in his and he glanced down at him. Right, this was about more than him. He forced his back to straighten, gave Peter the most reassuring smile he could manage, and followed Tony down towards the throne at the end with his head held high.


End file.
